


White Noise

by Rigil_Kent



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27439906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rigil_Kent/pseuds/Rigil_Kent
Summary: Conversations in a car between Harry and Lara post-Battle Ground.
Relationships: Harry Dresden/Karrin Murphy, Harry Dresden/Lara Raith
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	White Noise

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Battle Ground. You've been warned.
> 
> Intentionally written in 1st Person to emulate the Dresden books; you can be the judge of whether it works because I'm not very comfortable with 1st person at all. Also, don't be terribly surprised if I end up changing the title. Not super happy with it but couldn't come up with anything better at the time.
> 
> Not intended to be anything more than a random exercise to get the brain juices with writing going again. Plus, I've buried in this a theory as to why Lara sought out an alliance with Winter through Dresden. You know, apart from the fact that she's wanted to jump his bones since at least White Night and probably since Blood Rites after he helped her take over.

FIVE minutes after I retreated to the balcony, Lara came looking for me.

It was a pleasant enough evening, with a clear night sky and the stars sparkling brilliantly overhead. There was a cool wind that brought with it a hint of rain and the distant sound of insects and birds chirping was kind of nice. Had I been anywhere but here, doing anything but what I was doing, I might have even been able to enjoy myself. Instead, for the last hour and a half, I’d had to listen to the murmur of soft conversation between jerks and morons with too much money to their name and not a lick of common sense, all the while trying to pretend like I didn’t actually want to  _ pyrofuego  _ the lot of them. This was the fifth such gathering I’d been forced to attend as Lara Raith’s “Plus One” since Mab’s declaration and it was easily the worst. These tightwads were supposed to be discussing the best ways to rebuild Chicago in the wake of Ethniu’s attack, not argue over who had the best portfolio or lust over the vampire that Mab expected me to marry.

“Your absence has been noted, wizard mine,” Lara said as she slid into place alongside me at the balcony railing. She was dressed to kill - possibly literally, I suppose - in a white number that hinted at a body to die for. Again, quite possibly literally. It was a business suit similar to one I’d seen her wear before with a skirt less than an inch too short to be proper business wear and heels that were a tiny bit too high for similar reasons, both of which made it difficult not to stare at her pale legs. Her hair was worn loose today and fell to mid-back in shimmering midnight hues so dark they bordered on blue. If there wasn’t a Murph-shaped hole in my life and I didn’t know better, I might have been like one of the morons inside and been panting after her like a dog in heat. Instead, I was just the sap who was supposed to  _ marry  _ her. 

“If I go back in there,” I said in a tight voice, “it’s going to end up being a repeat of what happened at Bianca’s mansion.” Lara laughed lightly and the Mantle stirred inside my belly. She had a lovely laugh and the Mantle wanted so very badly to hear her make other, more … interesting noises. Right here. Right now. Grimacing, I pushed it down and ignored it. I’m good at ignoring things until they come back and bite me on the ass. Usually. 

“That would certainly liven things up, wouldn’t it?” She gave me another smile, one that could almost be construed as a  _ secret  _ smile, an intimate one to be shared among lovers. The Mantle twisted and snarled even more. “Can you imagine how that foolish Congressman would react if he saw you hurl fire?” Lara made another noise, one that was more of a hum than anything verbal, and the Mantle pawed at the metaphorical bars I’d tossed it in. Dammit. I did  _ not  _ need this. Not now. “I am almost tempted to insist you do so, wizard mine,” she said. I made a face at her near pet name, glad that I was facing away from the crowd of wealthy jerks who were undoubtedly trying to watch us without actually being seen doing so. Every time she called me that, I was reminded once again that Murphy was gone. Murphy was gone and I was supposed to marry this woman, this vampire, this deceptively attractive monster in a couple of months.

“How much longer do we have to be at this dog and pony show?” I asked instead of saying what I really wanted to say, noting finally that Lara had set down her glass on the rail between us. From the smell, it was bourbon and, without thinking, I took the glass and downed the last of it in a single gulp. Somehow, I managed to avoid coughing up a lung as the whiskey burned its way down my throat to warm my belly. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Lara was smirking though it did not quite touch her eyes.

“Is my company so displeasing?” she asked in a low voice. It was the kind of husky, pitched tone that somehow always got my motor running and I couldn’t quite put my finger on when she’d started using it on me. It always reminded me of that woman who’d died … damn, what was her name? She’d been the driver (and more) for the Beckitts … Linda … Something. That was going to bother me for hours.

“It’s not  _ your  _ company that’s making me feel murderous right now,” I grumbled. Which said a whole lot about the lunatics in suits inside the palatial estate at my back considering Lara was a freaking monster. How had she put it once? A habitually neat, polite, civil and efficient monster. A monster I was going to have to marry because Mab said so. And I’d rather spend time with  _ her  _ than any of the petty fat cats inside that mansion. What did that say about me? Or about the wealthy assholes inside? Worse for them, I decided. Some of my closest friends are monsters though, thankfully, none of them were lawyers.

“Don’t tease me so,” Lara said in that sultry voice. “I might have to take you up on what you’re implying.”

“Not implying anything,” I retorted. “You inferred. There’s a pretty big difference.” Lara smiled again and I mentally wrestled down the urge to return it. The Mantle fought against the sharp pang of loss that was still Murphy-shaped for a moment and I swallowed them both. “I know this is important,” I said softly. “I know that Mab wants us to be seen by the important people and I know you went to a lot of effort getting us into this place, but …”

“Well then, how fortunate that Freydis is even now approaching, no doubt with a dire warning of doom that will require both of us to depart this abysmal failure of a party.” I glanced over my shoulder and, exactly as Lara had said, there was Freydis, bulldozing through the gathering and intent on heading our way. The Valkyrie did not have to shove any of the social butterflies out of the way - they wisely took one look at her no nonsense expression and moved first. It probably helped that she looked like she could break them in half. In her wake, she left a swarm of rumors and second looks.

“If I didn’t know better,” I murmured, “I’d say you set this up so we wouldn’t have to be here all night.” Again, Lara gave me that sidelong half-smirk of hers that made the Mantle - and not just the Mantle to be honest - want to do naughty things to her. 

“Why ever would you think that I would wish to be here longer than I have to?”

We didn’t even bother with excuses as we made good our escape. Per Mab’s instruction - relayed by Molly, who had told me this part through clenched teeth and a false smile that almost looked painful - I held Lara’s hand as we exited. She was wearing gloves, of course, since Murphy’s protection held true. That’d change when the marriage ceremony took place, which I wasn’t exactly looking forward to, but for the time being, this was enough, especially given the angry and furiously jealous looks I was on the receiving end of. The fat congress-critter who had been trying so very hard to chat Lara up earlier gave me a stare that bordered on unhealthy. I smiled at him in response but didn’t bother making eye contact for longer than half a second. The very last thing I wanted was to soulgaze a politician … although, did they even still have souls at that point? Still, I was  _ really  _ tempted to flick a spark in his general direction or maybe strongly suggest that Lacuna pay him a visit…

Old habits die hard and I held the car door for Lara so she could slide in, then gave Freydis a smirking nod. The Valkyrie was dressed up like the stereotype of a chauffeur, though her uniform was, just like everything else Raith-oriented, brilliantly white. It was also a touch tighter than it probably should have been since Freydis wasn’t exactly a small woman and anyone actually paying attention would probably notice that she had at least three knives on her person. The goofy-looking hat she wore made her sour expression all the better.

“Home, Jeeves, and don’t spare the horses,” I instructed in a faux British accent as I climbed into the Rolls. Wisely, I pulled my feet in quickly and narrowly avoided getting them lopped off at the shins when she slammed the door shut with a touch more force than absolutely necessary. Lara, I noted, had already taken off her heels and leaned back into the plush, leather seat to begin massaging her feet. Her legs were spectacular.

I looked away.

The Rolls pulled away, barely making a noise, and I almost gleefully loosened the tie that had been trying to strangle me ever since I put the damned thing on. The privacy window thing separating the driver from the rear passengers was up, I noted, which was new; it hadn’t been when we’d arrived, so I wondered why Freydis felt the need to raise it. Glancing out the window, I considered the weirdness of this moment: I was decked out in a suit that would probably cost more than the rent of my old office  _ and  _ my old apartment combined, sitting in the back of a car that  _ definitely  _ cost more than I’d ever made as a PI, and was sharing the seat with a stunningly beautiful woman that I actually rather liked … usually. When she wasn’t eating people. Ten years ago, I would have thought this was the perfect life. And it might have actually been if I was here completely willingly and if the woman wasn’t sometimes a terrifying monster and if the Murph-shaped hole didn’t still ache...

And yes, because I’m me, the [Weird Al song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1n5XqwUkYw) _ did  _ immediately come to mind.

“Why?” I asked abruptly. It was a simple enough question. “Why this entire arrangement?” As I spoke, I gestured back and forth between the two of us. Lara offered that secret smile of hers, the one that always made her look like she knew something no one else did.

“There are multiple reasons behind my request,” she said. It was something of a surprise that she did not try to change the subject. “First and foremost, though, it involves my father.” I made a face at that.

“Spoiler warning, Lara,” I said, “but it’s kind of an open secret he isn’t running things anymore.” She nodded.

“And now, questions are being asked within my Court whether I have the strength to officially displace him.” Huh. That was new. And troubling, if I was honest.

“Do you?”

“No.” Lara’s expression went cold and remote as she momentarily glanced away and looked out the window at the passing surroundings. “My more dangerous enemies are long since dead and buried,” she said, “but the younger ones are more … reckless and eager to do foolish things. Too many of us are dead or injured … or imprisoned,” she added sourly with a sidelong look clearly meant to remind me that Thomas was still on Demonreach, as if I  _ needed  _ a reminder. I still hadn't discovered a way to get him out with his mind intact and Alfred hadn't been especially helpful in that regard. At the moment, I had Bob looking into it and had actually left him on Demonreach itself with permission to leave the skull but only to interact with Alfred. Lara continued. “So I have not the strength to win in  _ open  _ conflict once I move to secure the throne should the young fools decide to actively rebel.” She smiled then, a cold and deadly smile that somehow  _ still  _ looked sexy. “But with Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, the Winter Knight and rogue wizard who slew a Faerie Queen, destroyed the Red Court and bound a Titan at my side, they will reconsider being fools. For a time, at least.”

There’s something fundamentally depressing about being perceived simply as a weapon. Mab looks at me like that, as an elemental force of destruction that she can aim toward her enemies and unleash, but she’s an old soldier who has been fighting an unwinnable war for longer than I can fathom and I suspect she perceives  _ everyone  _ like that. For the entire time I was with them, the White Council had looked at me like that as well, though they seem more afraid that I’m just going to wake up one morning and decide hey, I’d like my cookies made from  _ real  _ Girl Scouts! And honestly, Lara had already mentioned to me in the past that I was the best weapon she’d ever had at her disposal, but still, it kind of sucks. I tried not to let it show on my face and I suppose I was lucky since she was looking away at the time. 

It certainly didn’t make me feel any better that she’d pronounced my Name damned near perfectly.

“I had thought,” Lara continued without looking at me, “to perhaps publicly present my father’s head to you as a wedding gift.” I made a face. Ew. “To show those attending that his reign was most assuredly over.” She did turn to look at me then. And smiled that shark’s smile of hers. “But you would not properly appreciate such a gift, would you, wizard mine?” The answer must have been on my face because she laughed lightly. “Would Wizard McCoy prefer it instead? He would, I think, appreciate the head of a slain enemy far more than you.”

For a moment, I considered. Would that possibly make a difference? He’d made his thoughts about Lara and the White Court pretty abundantly clear the last time we argued … and honestly, I tended to agree with him there more often than not. Right now, Lara needed me and Mab had warned her against ‘tasting her porridge,’ so to speak, which made me … well,  _ safe  _ wasn’t the right word since just being around Lara meant I was inevitably surrounding myself with enemies. In less danger than my grandfather thought? I almost snorted at the stupidity of that line of thought. As the Winter Knight, danger was pretty much a constant companion and adding in ‘betrothed to the de facto White Queen’ wasn’t exactly going to reduce the threats ahead of me. Mitigate them momentarily, maybe, but certainly not remove them. Sure, we had Thomas in common and _technically_ , once we were married, I'd be part of her household which she took extremely seriously. Unless you were named Madeline, of course. I shoved _that_ memory down in the hole where it belonged.

“From your silence,” Lara said, “I shall presume he would not.” She smiled again, somehow managing to make it look soft yet razor sharp. I wondered how she managed it. “Then, I shall by necessity default to my original plan,” she said. “You will simply have to stomach the sight of my father’s head as a gift.” She glanced away, seemingly lost in thought. “A statement must be made,” she added, mostly under her breath. I swallowed the urge to point out that decapitated vampire heads wasn’t considered an aphrodisiac to most normal people.

“And the other reasons?” I asked instead, probably a little more sharply than I’d intended, probably because I was trying very hard not to imagine having a man’s severed head on my dinner plate. Lara gave me another sidelong look. A speculative expression crossed her face and she was silent for a very long time. It was as if she was trying to determine how honest to be.

“Perhaps I simply wanted  _ you _ ,” she said with a smile that promised more than it should have. I gave her an irritated look which only caused her smile to deepen. “You are not entirely unattractive, wizard mine,” she continued with that maddening smile, “and I am quite positive we could find many …  _ interesting  _ things to do together.”

“Like burn you to death with a touch,” I retorted sharply. To my surprise, Lara began removing one of her gloves.

“Only if I try to feed upon you,” she said. “I have no need for more food,” she added, “and unlike my fool of a brother, I am in full control of my Hunger.” She smiled when she referenced Thomas, _our_ brother … which didn’t make this whole marriage thing even remotely more palatable. When she offered her now gloveless hand to me, I hesitated.

“I didn’t take you for the masochist type,” I said. Lara’s eyes danced.

“Pain can be pleasurable if delivered properly,” she added. It was a line she’d uttered in one of her … films, when she’d been performing as Lara Romany. I only knew that because of … um … research. Important, necessary research. Because knowing the weaknesses of your enemies was an important part of wizarding. You know what? Shut up.

I took her hand.

There was no sizzle of flesh burning or sudden cry of alarm from Lara, only the feel of a deceptively delicate feminine hand in mine. Lara smiled at my obvious surprise - no, it wasn’t surprise. It was stark raving terror that  _ she could touch me!  _ \- and released my hand.

“I once told you that I required a partner, not a thrall,” she said as she slid the glove back on. “Nothing has changed in that regard.” Slowly, I pulled my hand back and swallowed the sudden urge to get the hell out of the car. “I understand this … arrangement is not ideal,” Lara added and I came close to laughing out loud over that comment. “And I  _ am  _ truly sorry about Miss Murphy.” There was no mocking tone in her voice, only genuine sympathy, which momentarily startled me out of my panic-stricken stupor. “She was also instrumental in unseating my Father,” Lara said, “and I regret that I was never able to properly thank her.” She looked at me then. “Freydis has made me … aware of the circumstances of Miss Murphy’s death. You need only ask and I am more than willing to assist in dealing with the detective responsible.”

Rage flooded through me, then, amplified a hundred-fold by the Mantle of the Winter Knight. The temperature within the backseat nose-dived as I fought desperately for control. Rudolph. God help me, but I wanted to say the word and let Lara unleash the assets of White Court against that sonuvabitch. Maybe have her send some Malvora psychopaths after him so they could hollow out his brain with absolute terror. And then a Skavis follow-up for the despair he'd have sunk to. Just the thought of it was … _delicious_.

And so very, very wrong. Murph wouldn’t like it and if I did ask Lara to have him killed, what kind of example would I be setting for my daughters? For that matter, it’d mean that Carlos was right, that the White Council was right, that all the people who thought I was a monster had a point. Butters and Sanya had both fought me so I wouldn't gut that bastard afterward, and Michael, the best man I’d ever known, would definitely not approve. He’d tell me something profound, like … true judgement was not mine to deal out, but rather God’s. Sure, the Almighty and I have our differences, but even Gandalf had said something about not being eager to deal out death in judgement. So I swallowed the fury, froze the white hot pain and anger with layers and layers of icy will, and slowly shook my head.

“No,” I said in a rough voice. “Leave him alone.” 

Lara made a soft noise. I couldn’t tell if it was suppressed amusement or disappointment. She shook her head. Definitely disappointment. But no surprise. Great. The White Queen was back to knowing what I was going to do before I did it. I vaguely recalled Murphy once telling me that I was entirely too predictable despite my reputation for chaos.

“You make it so difficult sometimes,” Lara muttered under her breath. 

“I do. I really do.” From her expression, I guessed that she didn’t recognize why I was smirking. “You could be a little nicer though.” My smirk broadened into a smile that caused Lara to frown. “Come on, admit it,” I finished. “Sometimes you think I’m all right.” Lara blinked.

“Empty night, wizard,” she said as the Rolls slowed to a stop. Through the window, I could see stately Raith Manor. “Are you comparing yourself to Han Solo?”

Well … shit.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, count me in the camp who doesn't want Harry to weasel out of the marriage to Lara. I fully expect it'll end up being a dumpster fire, but man, it'll be an entertaining one and considering Dresden managed to "redeem" the Shadow of a Fallen Angel, I could totally see Butcher having the two (to their shock, dismay, confusion, etc.) legit becoming a couple down the road ... and then, because Harry can't have nice things, Lara will tragically die in a "Redemption Equals Death" scenario. I kind of love their dynamic in the books and found her (to my surprise) more interesting than Karrin (who I did like ... I just didn't care for the romance) or Molly (who I also like but sincerely don't want to end up involved with Harry romantically at all.) Plus, just imagine Thomas' reaction when he comes out of Demonreach to discover his brother and his sister have gotten married; sure, they're his half-brother and half-sister and not related to one another at all, but it's still funny. 
> 
> And I totally want the wedding to begin with "The wedding cake was on fire and it was my grandfather's fault."


End file.
